“Good Lord, sir!” he cried, with amazement on his face.  Holmes put his finger on his lips, replaced his hand in his breast pocket, and burst out laughing as we turned down the street.  “Excellent!” said he.  “Come, friend Watson, the curtain rings up for the last act.  You will be relieved to hear that there will be no war, that the Right Honourable Trelawney Hope will suffer no setback in his brilliant career, that the indiscreet Sovereign will receive no punishment for his indiscretion, that the Prime Minister will have no Europe an complication to deal with, and that with a little tact and management upon our part nobody will be a penny the worse for what might have been a very ugly incident.”

My mind filled with admiration for this extraordinary man.

“You have solved it!” I cried.

“Hardly that, Watson.  There are some points which are as dark as ever.  But we have so much that it will be our own fault if we cannot get the rest.  We will go straight to Whitehall Terrace and bring the matter to a head.”

When we arrived at the residence of the European Secretary it was for Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope that Sherlock Holmes inquired.  We were shown into the morning-room.

“Mr. Holmes!” said the lady, and her face was pink with her indignation.  “This is surely most unfair and ungenerous upon your part.  I desired, as I have explained, to keep my visit to you a secret, lest my husband should think that I was intruding into his affairs.  And yet you compromise me by coming here and so showing that there are business relations between us.”

“Unfortunately, madam, I had no possible alternative.  I have been commissioned to recover this immensely important paper.  I must therefore ask you, madam, to be kind enough to place it in my hands.”

The lady sprang to her feet, with the colour all dashed in an instant from her beautiful face.  Her eyes glazed—­she tottered—­I thought that she would faint.  Then with a grand effort she rallied from the shock, and a supreme astonishment and indignation chased every other expression from her features.

“You—­you insult me, Mr. Holmes.”

“Come, come, madam, it is useless.  Give up the letter.”

She darted to the bell.

“The butler shall show you out.”

“Do not ring, Lady Hilda.  If you do, then all my earnest efforts to avoid a scandal will be frustrated.  Give up the letter and all will be set right.  If you will work with me I can arrange everything.  If you work against me I must expose you.”

She stood grandly defiant, a queenly figure, her eyes fixed upon his as if she would read his very soul.  Her hand was on the bell, but she had forborne to ring it.

“You are trying to frighten me.  It is not a very manly thing, Mr. Holmes, to come here and browbeat a woman.  You say that you know something.  What is it that you know?”

“Pray sit down, madam.  You will hurt yourself there if you fall.  I will not speak until you sit down.  Thank you.”